


The Sex Scene

by Descaladumidera



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Kisses, M/M, Pining, Theseus has made a mistake, a tiny bit of angst, at least he thinks so, filmstar!AU, it will all be good in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: Theseus has pined for Percival Graves from afar for ages, so when the opportunity arrives to make a movie with him, he jumps at it.





	The Sex Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [little_fella (na_shao)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/na_shao/gifts).



> For the lovely [@angryzilla](http://angryzilla.tumblr.com/), whose birthday is today! I hope you like this, darling, and Happy Birthday! You are a gift to us all and I love you very much. Thank you for being in our lives. <3

  
  


 

‘Are you two up for today’s shooting?’ Seraphina comes walking up to them and Theseus looks at her, one eyebrow raised. He isn’t entirely sure what she is referring to as it should be a normal scene—but who knows what she is up to this time. After all, she is known for making last minute changes which mostly benefit the films she shoots.

‘What are you talking about?’ Percival chimes in, voicing Theseus’ thoughts precisely as ever. His usually warm, brown eyes are now wary, gazing at her while he sips his coffee.

Seraphina smiles her sweet but dangerous smile and answers, ‘We are going to shoot the sex scene today. Change of plans as poor Credence called in sick and we can’t do the scenes we planned to do. I would have told you sooner, but the call just came through and we really have only a handful of scenes without him. Are you up to it?’

They groan in unison. Theseus wants to ram his head against the table. He hates last minute changes with a passion, but this one … It’s no secret to him that he has harboured a flaming crush on his co-actor for quite some time now and when they got the opportunity to star as a gay couple on screen, he took the chance immediately. To his chagrin he didn’t realise in time that a sex scene would be involved, but he thought he could do it, given enough time.

A last minute notice is _not_ enough time.

Percival speaks up, placing his mug on the small table between them, ‘Give us some time to get into the scene and learn our texts and we can do it.’ He then turns to Theseus and smiles at him, making butterflies wreak havoc in his tummy, and he feels himself smiling back and nodding without his brain’s consent. Sometimes he really hates how his body betrays him.

‘Great, thank you. I chose this scene, because there isn’t much text. You should get into it pretty easily—you have been doing great so far, I’m sure your execution of the scene will be marvellous. I’ll leave you to it now.’ And with a last nod and smile to them, Seraphina turns around and walks away. Most certainly to get a good cup of coffee to soothe her nerves.

If Theseus was a coffee kind of guy, he would get a cup, too. But as it is, he hates coffee and so he stands up to get himself some tea. ‘Can I get you anything, too?’ He asks, looking at Percival’s empty mug, ogling the slender fingers holding it. Damn. Percival has nice hands, indeed.

‘Another coffee, please. And then get to a quiet place to learn our texts,’ Percival answers and Theseus nods, before taking his co-actor’s mug and walking to the break room.

A few minutes later they are seated in a spare room, heads over their scripts and mugs in hands, sipping occasionally. Theseus is more occupied with tempering down his nervousness than actually reading and learning his text. His body is telling him that this is a really bad idea, making him nauseous, and he is short of going to Seraphina to tell her that he isn’t feeling well.

But on the other side—he can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He knows it’s selfish and it won’t come anything out of it, but the last few weeks have been a bliss. Percival has always been easy to talk to, but since they know each other better now, it has been so much fun being around him. They have been out for dinner a few times—of course as colleagues—have taken funny pictures to share on social media and had late night talks at their shared hotel.

He could start now with thinking about how Percival’s touches have felt, how his kisses have tasted, how his own tummy has always been a pit of lava, churning and wild, whenever he and Percival have been close to each other. But that has all just been an act, it hasn’t been real. And Theseus is painfully aware of this fact.

‘Do you want to practise?’

‘Huh?’ Theseus looks up, pulled out of his musings, and right into Percival’s questioning face. ‘What?’

Percival raises one eyebrow and asks again, ‘I asked if you want to practise the scene.’

Theseus, who has just taken a sip from his nearly cold tea, chokes and sputters, face turning an unflattering red, while he tries to calm down. He hasn’t expected this question. Not at all.

It’s not like he has never done such a scene, but never with Percival. It has all been very professional, but now emotions come into play and make him all nervous and unsure of himself.

‘Uhm … okay? The whole scene?’ He asks tentatively, not daring to look at Percival, out of fear of the man finding out about his feelings by looking him in the eyes.

‘No, just the beginning—to get into the mood, you know? We are comfortable enough with each other, but these scenes are always very intimate and I want us both to be comfortable with the situation,’ Percival explains and stands up, waiting for Theseus to follow him. And Theseus does. It’s hard and he’d rather run away and never come back, but he follows Percival to the other side of the room, away from the table and the chairs.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to calm his nervous heart, beating up a staccato in his chest. It’s the first time in his life that he feels so nervous before a scene. Usually he is composed, knowing his abilities—and knowing that he is _good_ at what he is doing. But now? He feels like a child who is left alone by his mum at the checkout at the supermarket, because she just quickly needs to grab something. But she doesn’t come back in time.

Theseus gulps and opens his eyes, straightening up, and looking at Percival.

‘Is everything alright? You look a bit pale.’ Percival sounds worried and Theseus hates it. Very much. It ticks him off and makes him even more nervous than he already is. He wants to tell Percival that no, he’s not alright, because he is about to make out with his crush, but it’s all just an act and will break his heart.

Instead he says, ‘I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night.’ And he sounds cold and distant and hates himself for the worried, slightly hurt look on Percival’s face. Why can’t he function like a normal human being? Why does he have to act like a human disaster whenever emotions come into play? He sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.’

‘It’s alright, I’m nervous, too. I have actually never done such a scene with another man,’ Percival chuckles and Theseus snorts.

‘I know! I watched all your movies!’ He puts a hand on his mouth, shocked of speaking before thinking. His eyes are going wide and his cheeks are burning with embarrassment. ‘That sounded worse than I intended it to be.’

But Percival just laughs and grins at him and Theseus feels a weight lifting off his chest—at least a small weight. ‘I feel honoured, honestly. I quite admire you and to know you enjoy my movies … well, it feels good.’

It pleases Theseus greatly to hear this and he can feel a smile splitting his face as he looks at Percival, who fixes him with warm, brown eyes, dark like coffee. The stare is so intense it makes a shiver run down his spine, goosebumps spread on his arms, the hair in the nape of his neck rise. He is fixating him, nailing him to the wall in his back and Theseus swallows hard.

‘Well, you are quite good,’ he rasps in answer, his throat feeling like a desert, dry and parched, in need for water. He swallows again, trying to wet it. His body feels so useless right now.

‘Thank you, that really means much to me.’ Percival is still smiling and Theseus thinks his heart might beat its way out of his chest. ‘Do you want to start?’

Theseus clears his throat and looks at his text and the instructions. ‘Yeah …’ He nods and wets his lips, before he lets his eyes dart back to Percival, script lax in his hand. One step forward and he is just an inch away from the other man, looking down at him. It’s not hard to let lust into his gaze, to make his body angle towards Percival in a show of need for physical touch. It’s all in the script. It’s just an act. At least Theseus tries to tell himself this as warmth pools in his belly and his heart is beating even faster, making him sweat. He wonders if Percival notices his trembling hands.

Percival on the other hand just lets go of his script and it rustles to the ground, lying there in a heap. Theseus follows it with his eyes, before they snap back to Percival, a heat in the other man’s face that makes him sweat even more, makes his tongue tied.

When Percival takes a step forward, all predatory like, Theseus has to suppress the urge to walk backwards. He swallows again and stands his ground, even when Percival presses his chest against Theseus’, his hands coming up to frame Theseus’ face, the touch tender and gentle, a thumb rubbing over his stubbly cheek.

Theseus closes his eyes and sighs, leaning into the touch, his own hands landing on Percival’s suit clad hips.

‘You look beautiful, darling,’ Percival whispers, far too close to Theseus’ face, and his breath stops, his heart skipping a beat. He really has to remind himself that this isn’t real—even though he has to say that they both look gorgeous in their costumes, tight fitting suits, tailored just for them. Especially Percival is born to wear suits, dark, like his hair and eyes. It makes Theseus’ mind wander and he has to get himself back to reality.

He gets back into his role, licking his lips, like the script told him to do, and leans a bit forward, plastering a smile on his face. ‘Do you think so?’ He murmurs, right against Percival’s lips, thinking about the times he has kissed him for the film’s sake. He has loved the failed scenes the most, because it means he got to kiss Percival again. Thinking about it makes him shiver.

‘Indeed I do. I want to show you how much you turn me on.’ And Theseus knows what comes next is a kiss—he is still not prepared. Not prepared for the gentle touch of lips against his own, the gentle hands wandering from his cheeks to the nape of his neck, holding onto the soft hair there.

His eyes flutter shut and he loses himself a bit, pressing against Percival, always trying to remember what the script, which has sailed to the ground a few seconds ago, says. And he thinks it was something along the lines, that his character just falls into step with Percival’s, letting himself be led.

And so he concentrates completely on Percival, following the man’s lead. Part of him wishes Percival would use tongue in his kiss, but they only make it look like a deeply intimate thing, nothing more. No deep, satisfying kiss that Theseus wants so badly. But this one doesn’t fail to turn his legs into jelly and he holds onto Percival for dear life.

Percival, on the other hand, pushes him back against the wall, pinning him there with a force that takes the breath out of Theseus’ lungs, with a force that makes him gasp into the kiss. His arms wrap around Percival, his hands desperately seeking for something to hold onto, finding their way to the back of Percival’s suit, grabbing the fabric.

And Percival doesn’t stop, doesn’t give Theseus the time to take a breath, just keeps kissing him like his life is depending on it. And—damn!—Theseus won’t complain, completely gone in the feeling, hooking one leg around Percival’s to pull him closer, to never let him go. Percival’s chapped lips just feel too good against his own, demanding and full of power, like his character should be. Theseus’ character, on the other hand, is very inexperienced. To his luck he can’t look at much experience in his real life, so he has been playing ‘superb’ as Seraphina has put it.

Not that he cares about acting at this very moment, completely concentrating on Percival, pressing flush against him, kissing him like Theseus has never been kissed before. Licking into his mouth and—oh!—they didn’t talk about this, but he likes it. Very much so. And he reciprocates, giving as much as he is getting, even drawing a tiny gasp from his partner, whose hands are roaming again, trailing under Theseus’ shirt which has come undone in their make-out session.

And then it happens. Percival’s hand brushes over Theseus fabric clad cock, which has thought it would get some action, now standing flush and proud, hard to the touch. Percival can’t miss his arousal and Theseus wants the ground to swallow him whole, as his co-actor draws his hand back and looks at Theseus, wide-eyed.

He has ruined it. Completely and utterly ruined it. _Damn, Scamander, why don’t you have your fucking hormones under control?!_ He screams at himself internally and wants to vanish so badly it hurts. He doesn’t dare to look at Percival, doesn’t dare to meet his eyes. Too embarrassed by his feelings and his body’s reaction to the—admittedly—heated kiss.

‘Theseus?’ Percival’s voice is calm and collected. Of course it is. He is a professional and Theseus has just made a mistake like a bloody beginner. He wishes he could even be cross with himself, but all he is feeling is a dread and emptiness and the knowledge that Percival probably won’t want to finish filming the movie with him. Theseus wouldn’t blame him. ‘Hey, come, let’s sit.’

It doesn’t really sink in that Percival is leading him back to the chairs by his hand, before he is pressing him down and push a bottle of water into his hands. Theseus vaguely remembers it standing on the table and Percival drinking from it. Why has the man the urge to humiliate him even more?

If Theseus wasn’t a damn proud bastard, he would give in to the urge to cry. It occurs to him that he has never felt so strongly for someone before and it makes the situation even worse. Yes, he has had a crush on Percival before even meeting the man properly. But working with him on set for the past few weeks? It has broken Theseus’ walls down and made him fall hard and fast.

He doesn’t realise right away that Percival’s hands are covering his own and help his trembling hands unscrew the bottle, before he helps him to guide it to his lips. It feels foreign and Theseus can’t point out why this is all strange to him.

‘You look damn pale. Theseus, please answer me. Do I have to call a medic?’ Percival is crouching in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes, his big, warm hands resting on Theseus’ thighs. Theseus gulps down the water like a man stranded in the desert. He has the feeling it gets stuck in his throat.

He doesn’t know if he will be able to answer, still shaking, his body feeling like he is wrapped in cotton. But he owes Percival an answer. At least that. ‘I’m … I’m fine. I’m just … an idiot, I guess,’ he says, hoarsely, laughing nervously. And now the tears come, trickling down his cheeks and falling onto Percival’s hands, who is still looking at him in concern.

He didn’t expect the hand on his cheek, gently brushing away the tears and urging him to meet Percival’s eyes again. He doesn’t think he deserves such tender touches, nor Percival’s understanding expression. He sniffs, more tears coming, unable to stop them.

‘You are not an idiot.’ Theseus laughs bitterly at the words, but Percival puts a finger on his lips, shushing him effectively. ‘You are not an idiot, Theseus Scamander. What makes you think that?’

Does he really have to say it out loud? Does Percival have to taunt him like this? But fine, if he wants Theseus to say it, he will. Under tears and in shame, but he will. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ He sniffs and brings up a hand to wipe over his wet face. ‘I got a hard-on, because you fucking _kissed_ me. Because I have a bloody _crush_ on you. And I can understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore. I understand. Really.’ And it’s oh so hard to say this, his heart screaming in agony. But it has to be done.

And Percival has the audacity to actually _laugh_. Well, it’s more of a chuckle, but still. And the look he bestows upon Theseus is so warm that he thinks he is imagining it. ‘Oh, Theseus. My lovely, stupid Theseus. I fell for you the first time we met on set. You were such an easy and cheerful person to be around. So open and friendly to everyone. You charmed your way right into my heart. And this scene now? I was so scared about it—I thought I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you. Kissing you, knowing it isn’t real? That was hard enough. But this steamy scene? I might have gotten a bit carried away there if you look at the script. But I couldn’t control myself around you. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, but please don’t cry. Not because of me. A smile suits you so much more.’

Theseus didn’t realise he was holding his breath while Percival talked. But now he is gasping for air and laughing and he is happy and wants to cry at the same time, wants to kiss and hug Percival for real, and at the same time he wants to run away and never come back. There are so many emotions inside of him, forming a cocktail that makes him dizzy and makes him cry and laugh and throw himself at Percival, who catches him, laughing, too. And are that tears in his eyes? Theseus doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t care.

And the only thought he is holding onto right now is: _This is real._


End file.
